


catch my eye falling

by Hella_Queer



Series: wherever i go, there you are [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-06-27 16:51:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19795003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hella_Queer/pseuds/Hella_Queer
Summary: 5 times Keith grabbed James’ hand





	catch my eye falling

**Author's Note:**

> My very first fic in this fandom was posted a year ago yesterday! I didn’t mean for this sequel to take that long to write lol. This is a companion piece to hold my hand running, so I would read that one first, or again if you need a refresher.
> 
> [NOW WITH ART](https://www.instagram.com/p/B1Kq20jAz4G/?igshid=67qx7ouspg47) from the amazing and sweet tricodeku / Robin!

~1 

Keith doesn’t like crowds. He doesn’t like the noise, or the heat that radiates from groups as small as four who stand too close together. He doesn’t like feeling as if he could be crushed at any minute, because while his dad promises he’ll hit his growth spurt sooner than he knows, the fact remains that he’s still a tiny, scrawny, nine year old. (Ten in three months, thank you very much). He’s fast, sure, but when you’re in a sea of never ending fast people, being fast just means running into more legs more often.

As he muscles his way through the throng of face painted, candy apple carrying individuals, he tries to be optimistic. The firehouse block party is raising money to build a new planetarium downtown. The old one is horribly out of date, small, and falling apart. According to his dad, they’ve been raising money for the project long before Keith was born. His dad was the first person to suggest fixing it up, a fact he likes to bring up every year when the local businesses start turning in their participation forms. Keith supposes he had to get his pride from somewhere. 

The street is blocked off with neon green barricades, easily visible from a good few feet away. It’s quieter at the end of the street, away from the music and the bike raffle and the dunk tank. Keith pats his pocket, checking on the money his dad gave him before starting his shift of taking kids around the block in the firetruck. 

Just as Keith thinks about the iconic horn, the tall tall ladder and the mighty water hose, the truck turns the corner. He waves to his dad, who smiles back at him, carefree and kind. Yet another reason to brave the masses and the cloying smell of sweat and mixing foods. His dad loves the fundraiser, and Keith loves seeing him happy. He waves until the truck rounds the corner again, and makes to hit up the ice cream stand to spend the last of his pocket money, when he sees him. 

It’s James, the boy in his class who always wants to be line leader, and never fails to remind their teacher about homework. He’s got his chin on his knees, looking for all the world like the kid who lost his baseball over the fence. He hasn’t noticed Keith, diagonally across the way, and without really thinking too hard about it, Keith hops over the barricade and jogs over. 

“Hey,” He says, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

James jumps, startled, wide eyes looking up before lowering to his shoes. “Hey.” 

In the distance Keith hears the band warming up, a drum solo and a few guitar riffs. He knows from past parties that they’ll invite people to sing with them, and that the shops will start closing down once it gets dark. But his curiosity pushes all of that aside. 

“What are you doing over here?” 

James frowns at him, a look that Keith is very familiar with. He gets it every time he forgets to put his books away, or when he doesn’t stand up straight in the lunch line. “I’m watching the party.” 

Well. _Yeah._ That much was obvious. “Why?” 

James huffs, like all of these questions are taking time away from his _watching._ “My parents said I couldn’t go by myself. And none of my brothers wanted to take me.” He shrugs, extending his legs to stretch them out. He’s wearing school pants and s green collared shirt. 

Keith tries not to look at his own bandages knees exposed by old shorts. “So how did you get here?” 

“I told them I wanted to go to the library, and they dropped me off. It’s only a block away from here, so I walked.” 

Whoa. 

Goody-two shoes James Griffin, who almost cried when he accidentally took the teacher’s pen out of the classroom, _lied_ to his parents, just to sit on the edges of a block party. He wasn’t even on the interesting side! Down here were the porta potties and the big trash cans. The only cool thing that passed by was the fire truck! 

A surge of—of _something_ washes over Keith, and before he knows it, he’s grabbing James’ hand and pulling him across the street. 

“What are you doing?!” James tries to pull away, even after following Keith over the barricades. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

“Alone,” Keith huffs. “You can’t go alone, but I’m here now so you’re not.” He totes him along, through families and couples, clusters of college students and teenagers dancing and waiting in line for the ring toss and balloon popping games. 

“I’m pretty sure they meant someone older…” James mutters, looking around them apprehensively. He’s even shorter than Keith, though admittedly not by much. 

“I _am_ older.”

“By three weeks!” Keith doesn’t look back, but he thinks he hears a smile in James’ words. 

They don’t talk much after that, James too busy gasping at every sight and sound, Keith too busy trying not to stare at the new expressions his classmate makes. He uses the last of his money to get them single scoop ice cream cones, and the way James grins at his hefty Rocky Road in a waffle cone is enough to quell any bitter feelings Keith has about missing out on topping his mint chip with chocolate sprinkles. 

When it’s time for James to head back to the library, Keith walks with him, the afternoon sun at their backs. James doesn’t thank him, but he shakes his hand on the library steps. 

Keith doesn’t mind. He knows what it means.

~2 

Keith hates Valentine’s Day. 

He wasn’t fond of any of the holidays now, but all the pink and red and white, the flowers and candy and chocolate, all the mushy lovey dovey crap, it’s too much. He doesn’t have anyone to celebrate with, not anymore. His dad used to wake him up with heart shaped pancakes, would help him decorate his tissue box for the class candy exchange. He would help Keith write out his classmates names, and twist ties on the little cellophane bags they used to pack each gift. 

But he’s gone. So Keith helps decorate the gym instead. 

He wasn’t that big on candy, anyway, and preferred dark chocolates to milk or white. He doesn’t have any money to participate this year anyhow, so really it’s for the best that he isn’t in the lunchroom along with the other sixth graders. His cheeks hurt from blowing up dozens of balloons, and he’s got paper cuts from taping hearts all over the walls. But the gym teacher that was supervising him is gone, so Keith sits in the bleachers untangling old streamers, trying to keep the cheap bandaids they gave him from coming loose. 

He hears the gym door open, and Keith hastily puts aside the paper stars he’s made, fumbling with the ripped section of the streamer. He tries not to look too guilty as he raises his head, expecting the gym teacher, or maybe even the janitor. 

“There you are!” 

It’s James. 

He’s wearing _white_ jeans, like he’s tempting fate, and a red button down. He has a heart sticker on his cheek that says **Ur Sweet** , and he’s carrying a small bakery box with a red heart drawn on top. 

“Here I am,” Keith says, confusion moving his lips. “What do you want?”

James frowns at his tone, climbing the steps of the bleachers until he’s standing right in front of him. “You weren’t at lunch.”

“I’m aware.”

He almost laughs at the way James’ huffs, the air from his lips ruffling his bangs. “What I _mean_ is that you weren’t there for the gift exchange.” He looks at the streamers, the balloons in a pile on the ground, the paper hearts that have yet to be taped up. Keith braces himself for the teasing, or the endless barrage of questions James seems so fond of these days. But the other boy doesn’t say anything, just silently holds out the pastry box. 

Upon closer inspection, Keith sees that his name is written in glittery black pen on top of the heart. He takes it, his chest tightening uncomfortably as he pulls off the tiny bit of tape holding the lid closed. 

“I thought you brought in vanilla cupcakes,” He says slowly, staring down at the swirly pink icing atop the very chocolate looking cupcake. The very big chocolate cupcake. The kind you have to eat with a fork. 

(There is a fork, one from the cafeteria, wedged into the box, miraculously not in the way of the treat). 

James won’t look at him, arms crossed over his chest, pink high on his cheeks. “You don’t like vanilla.” 

He says it matter-of-factly, like he was talking about the weather. Today is overcast, Earth is the third planet from the sun, Keith doesn't like vanilla. Only it wasn’t a fact that everyone knew and accepted. It was something that applied only to Keith. The fact that James of all people not only _knew_ this, but had gone out of his way to _accommodate_ him…

“T-thanks,” Keith pushes out, setting the box aside to rub suddenly sweaty palms on his pants. His face feels hot now. 

James murmurs something that sounds like _you’re welcome_ , then turns on his heel—

—and gets his feet tangled in the streamers and careens towards the stairs. Keith shoots up with a shout, or maybe they’re both yelling. But his hand latches onto James’ hand and he _pulls_ with all of his might, and somehow they end up on the benches instead of tumbling down five flights of wooden stairs. 

James, half on top of him, doesn’t move for a long moment. Keith, half under him, doesn’t move either. 

“We don’t talk about this. Ever. To anyone.”

“Right.” 

~3

It took the town twenty-five years; eleven before Keith was born, and fourteen after, but they did it. 

The building is beautiful. Tall columns of clean, white stone hold up the large dome in the center of the structure. The outer building is all colored stone, brown with swirling hues of green and blue. Inside the main building is the lobby, a cafe, interactive puzzles, a few exhibits about planets and constellations, and a few mega telescopes that show a slideshow of how far Earth spacecrafts has been able to delve into space. It is, arguably, the single greatest building in the entire town. 

Keith feels like throwing up. 

They aren’t using the buddy system anymore, old enough now at fourteen not to be a liability, but James has gravitated towards him anyway. He lingers with Keith in the exhibits, standing close enough to obnoxiously rest his chin on his shoulder as they read the plaques. He waves his arm in his face whenever their teacher asks questions, blocking him from view. He sits with him in the cafe at lunch, reading the quirky titles on the menu and making faces at almost every single one. 

“What’s a cosmic grilled cheese?” Keith asks, and James looks at him with bright eyes. He hasn’t spoken at all today until now. 

“I don’t know, but it’s blue and purple.” He shows him the menu, tapping the picture of blue bread oozing purple cheese. “I kinda wanna try it.” 

“Only because your second favorite color is purple.” Keith checks the price for the intergalactic spaghetti, wondering if his caretaker gave him enough to add on a mars meatball, when something occurs to him. “Is _that_ why you like grilled cheese so much? Because it’s orange?” 

“... no.” 

James hides his blushing face in his menu, and Keith huffs a laugh through his nose. The grilled cheese does look pretty good, and he has enough for a small serving of tomato soup! He isn’t surprised when James orders the same thing, but what stops him short is when he orders two drinks, and slides the second in front of him. When their food arrives, James changes their soup bowls, leaving Keith with a portion twice the one he could afford. 

Keith grimaces, but James pointedly doesn’t look in his direction until he begins to eat. The soup is good, hot and a little spicy like he prefers, and any lingering annoyance he feels fades away, because he’s too busy laughing at how red James’ face gets the more he eats. He could never handle hot stuff. 

There’s only one thing left to do after lunch, and Keith fools himself into thinking he can handle it. 

He tries. He really, really does. But sitting under the projection of a night sky, watching as it clears the earth’s atmosphere and sends them swimming through the cosmos, makes his chest ache. Because he’s heard everything the director is telling them, only closer to his ear. A comforting rumble as he lay his head on a solid chest. He’s seen the stars in the desert, no city lights to chase them away. For him the universe was never something to conquer, was never this other worldly place that was always unreachable no matter how far they sent their ships. 

It was a bedtime story. One he refused to color gray, like the rest of his memories. 

“James?” He whispers to the boy next to him. They’re sat in the very back, away from the class, against their teacher’s instructions. 

“Yeah?” James whispers back, and though Keith can’t bring himself to look, he knows the other boy is looking at him now. He was caught up in the show like everyone else, but at Keith’s words, all of his attention had shifted. 

It doesn’t give him butterflies. That was stupid. 

“Can we go back to the telescopes?” His fingers twitch on the armrest, finding James’ hand closer than he expected it to be. He grabs it, desperate, and almost slumps in relief when he gets a squeeze back. 

“Kay.”

~4

It’s late, very late, on the third day of spring vacation.

James had left on Sunday with most of the other cadets, leaving behind a handful of older students and officers. Keith had walked him to the car, watching his father in the driver’s seat cast his son a dismissive look before returning to a phone call. He helped load the suitcase in the trunk. He told James to have fun, to not blow all his allowance on cherry candy. 

He had surged forward and wrapped his arms around him, hugging him to his chest, fingers digging into his shoulder blades. James had frozen in turn, terrified of the eyes burning into the back of his head. But Keith squeezed him tighter, glaring at the man in the car who looked nothing like the boy in his arms. 

He had watched the car leave the grounds, feeling helpless in a way that had nothing to do with himself. 

Now he watches him through the open doorway of his dorm, one foot over the threshold, unsure if he’s allowed to fully cross inside. 

James looks _rough._

He’s wearing mismatched clothes—a blue and black plaid shirt, polka dotted socks that peek out over his dress shoes—like he’d gotten dressed in a hurry. Or in the dark. His hair is in complete disarray, like it was left alone to dry naturally, and his shoulders sag with the weight of the world. He doesn’t even realize his door is still open until Keith runs in and belly flops onto his bed. 

“You’re back early.” 

James jumps about a foot in the air, a choked squeak leaving his throat. He puffs up like a kitten when he sees Keith and hurls a few pairs of rolled up socks at him. “Don’t scare me like that, jerk!” He starts trying to fix his hair, only to give up halfway. “What are you even doing here? I thought you were going with Shiro to visit his parents?”

Keith makes a face. “I was. But then I found out Adam was going and I bailed. I don’t think I could’ve handled _”Hey everyone! This is my boyfriend, Adam, and this is the feral lion I found in the desert, Keith!”_

James snorts. “One, he doesn’t sound like that. Two, there’s no way he’d call you a lion.” 

“I’m more lion than you!”

“Keep dreaming!” 

James shakes his head, a soft smile curving his lips. He seems a bit more relaxed as he puts his things away. Keith shuts his eyes as he changes into a grey Garrison issued tracksuit, that he now knows that James likes to use as pajamas. 

“You’re more of a rabid coyote than anything,” James murmurs. Keith opens his eyes to find him staring at the calendar on his closet door. The calendar was winter themed, with this month’s picture being a cozy looking cabin in the middle of a snowy forest. They didn’t get snow here, and the rain was always hot and fast, skinny bullets pelting the earth, turning dirt into mud. 

He doesn’t like how distant James seems. He’s always wound a little tighter than the other cadets, but lately he’s been letting his guard down around Keith. He doesn’t want to go back to the formalities and stupid salutes. 

Keith rises from the bed and pads across the small space, reaching for James’ hand without hesitation. Thin fingers twitch underneath his own, but the other boy doesn’t pull away. Keith wasn’t great at being comforting. Ironically it was James who calmed him down after an altercation or a scolding. But he doesn’t know how to ask what’s bugging him, doesn’t want to pry if it means being shut out. So he does what he knows how to do: he acts. 

He wraps his arms around James’ chest and pulls him close, resting his chin on his shoulder. He wishes their rooms had windows, wishes they could look out at the sky instead of gazing longingly at a stock photo. The picture was probably edited, created digitally or with miniature figurines. He closes his eyes, squeezing the hand still locked with his own. 

“Keith?”

“Yeah?”

James sighs, finally relaxing in his arms. He turns his head slightly, burying his nose in Keith’s hair. “Can we sneak some ice cream from the kitchens?” 

Keith smiles, hugging him tighter. 

“Kay.” 

~5

In retrospect Keith shouldn’t have been surprised. There were only three people in the world who knew him best. One was gone for good, the other was lost to the stars, and the last was glaring at him from across the hanger, dressed in civilian clothes with a duffle bag at his feet. 

In the morning, Keith will be sent off with stern words and disappointment in front of the rest of the cadets and officers. He’ll be asked to formally turn in everything issued to him by the Garrison. He’ll be on his own once again. 

Naturally he planned on getting a head start. 

He just didn’t expect this little detour. 

“What are you doing here, Griffin?” His footsteps echo in the large, empty space. Right now the only things standing in his way were the code to the hangar doors and one very upset teenage boy. “Isn’t it passed your bedtime?”

James looks like absolute shit; hair a mess like he tried to rip it out with his hands, eyes sunken and red, like he spent time in the ocean holding them wide open. His clothes are wrinkled to hell, like he slept in them after rolling down a hill for an hour. 

“You’re not leaving without me.”

Keith feels his heart plummet. 

“I’ve lost you so many times,” James whispers. “Too many times. I’ve seen the way you change when life pulls the rug out from under you. I couldn’t help you back then. I didn’t. But I’m here now.”

Time has always been Keith’s greatest enemy. He never has enough of it, and the time he’s given don’t match with the right people. Not his mom, not his dad, not Shiro. Keith wanted a lifetime with all of them, but the universe has decided that he doesn’t deserve them. It’s decided once again that he and James aren’t meant to orbit the same space. 

Maybe he should’ve stopped this sooner. He saw the signs, the smiles and the fond sighs, they way they leaned into each other, laughed at private jokes. James had a lot of old photos from when they were kids, had a lot of memories Keith himself has forgotten. He’s allowed himself to fall, and right now he’s watching as the ground gets closer and closer. 

He grabs James’ hands. He doesn’t know what else to do. He doesn’t think there’s anything left to do besides the obvious. 

“People will look for you,” Keith says against his lips. “They won’t look for me.”

James shakes his head, forehead pressed lightly to Keith’s. “Which is why I have to be there! Someone has to look out for you.”

“I’ve been looking out for myself my entire life,” he reminds him. He doesn’t need to. He can see the pain in those eyes, the sympathy. The regret. 

“But you don’t have to be alone anymore.” 

James kisses him this time, desperate and frantic. Keith swallows a sob and wraps an arm around his waist, the other still clutching his hand. James has been the only constant in his life, the only thing he could count on to be there even on the days when he wished he’d leave. He can’t imagine being without him. As a friend, something more, something less. Having him out of reach doesn’t sound possible. 

“You can’t leave me again.” It’s spoken in a rush, like a heavy secret. “I.. I don’t think I’ll see you again if you do.”

**It isn’t fair.**

“I’m sorry.” 

**It isn’t fucking fair!**

“Keith, _please.”_

He doesn’t know how long they spend wrapped up in each other, clinging and crying and trying not to fall apart. Keith kisses him like there’s time, like he has the luxury of saving every single second. James kisses him like the world is ending, like the last minutes before the firing squad is called to take them out. There’s always a last kiss, one more brush of lips, one more tear to wipe away. Until there isn’t. 

James has the code to the garage, because of course he does. He insists that Keith take his duffle bag, filled with clothes and stolen food packages and money hidden away in rolled up socks that Keith won’t notice until it’s too late to scold him for it. 

Keith has the keys to Shiro’s bike, because of course he does. He promised to hold onto them until he got back, until they could race again. He tries not to think about the name in his pocket, the silver plates that don’t belong to him but also don’t belong to anyone else. 

“C’mere,” Keith says, pulling James in close after he’s straddled the bike. He reaches underneath his collar and pulls out his own dog tags, trying to smile when James does the same. 

“I want both.” It’s a demand, red eyes and wobbling lips. “Don’t fucking care what they say about it later.” He puts Keith around his neck and glares beyond his tears, biting his lip to keep quiet. Keith does the same, pressing the warm metal to his lips before tucking them safely under his shirt. 

He doesn’t look at him when James open the hangar door. He’s not strong enough. If he sees those hopeless, lonely eyes he’ll drag him onto this bike and ride off into the sunset with him. He’ll throw them both off a cliff. There’s no reason James has to suffer with him, for him. 

He quiets the part of him that’s crying out for company, that’s screaming at him to grab him one more time and never let go. Keith won’t let the universe take James. He’s offering himself up this time instead. 

“You better not forget about me, asshole.”

“Heh. I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.” 

Later, much later, when Keith is fighting to save the universe, he’ll think about the boys he left behind. The one with the permanent showdown above his head, who shunned any hand that reached out to him. He’ll think about the boy who, against all odds, accepted him when he finally decided to reach back, the one with tears in his eyes and his name caught between his teeth. 

He’ll wonder, for a long time, if he made a mistake when he let him go.


End file.
